


Thrown Back

by HiddenEye



Series: This, my dear, is love [2]
Category: The Wayhaven Chronicles (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: 70s Timeline, Adam Has a Breakdown and Grows a Beard, And Grows Out His Hair, Bearded Adam, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Flirting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24509389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenEye/pseuds/HiddenEye
Summary: When they turn back to each other, Adam lets out a small scoff, shaking his head as he makes his way to the spare rooms. “I don’t want to hear it.”“My intuition is better than I expected,” Nate comments, easily stepping up with Adam’s brisk pace. “I knew you’d come here today.”Adam doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s grinning. “Don’t act so pleased. I had it under control.”“Mason saved your life. Give him a little more credit.”Adam sniffs. “I had it.”Nate lets out a chuckle. “Sure.”
Relationships: Adam du Mortain/Nathaniel “Nate” Sewell
Series: This, my dear, is love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1770787
Comments: 6
Kudos: 19





	Thrown Back

**Author's Note:**

> So it seems, I’ll be making a series out of this.

The decision is made when Adam finds that he can’t really take down a pack of trolls on his own.

Ten years and seven months. That’s how long it took. The revelation shouldn’t make him feel so disgruntled, but these beasts have been making his life a whole lot worse the longer he fights them. And it isn’t just them, really. There are other groups of rogue supernaturals Adam has been hunting across foreign lands and putting their mischievous advances to a stop. He doesn’t kill them, of course — just puts them down long enough for the Agency to pick them up.

Until that one time with the demons more than a month ago. Which prompts Nate to drop by with a visit at that diner. Not to mention he made Adam pay for the bill.

Not that he minds it. Not that Adam minds seeing Nate again.

The nearest troll roars with a bellow that bounces around the damp forest, causing birds to take flight from the echoing sound. Adam snarls back.

There are three of them and they’re all hideous, their foul smell prickling at the back of his throat that Adam has to hold his breath as he dodges a swing of a mace. It crashes into the tree trunk behind him, splinters flying from the blow. Adam narrowly avoids the other troll’s axe, leaving a good ten feet between them when the weapon slices into the ground he once stands on. The DMB syringe is safe, almost crushed in his grip from how tense he’s gotten, but the others are safe in his pants pockets.

One stab of the drug into each of them. That’s all he needs.

“Oi, this one’s a slippery one, aye?” One of them rumbles, hand curled around a broken tree, the deep octaves of its voice a grating thing against Adam’s eardrums. “Like a— like a cat, donchu think?”

“Wha’ would you know how cats be that slippery?” The one with the axe grunts out, yanking its weapon from the ground that dirt goes flying everywhere. “He looks like one of those werewolves.”

“But, he doesn’t smell like ‘em.” The troll with the mace spits to the side. “He smells like those vampires, nasty lil’ fangers, if I say so myself.”

Adam bares his teeth. “I’m no werewolf.”

“Ah-ha! Y’see?” The same troll gestures to him with a wave of his arm. “A blood-sucking fanger. And y’said he was one of those howlin’ ones.”

“He looks like one of ‘em, doesn’t he though?” The troll with the axe muses, beady dark eyes trained on Adam that he tightens his grip on the syringe. “All tha’ hair. Wonder why’s he keepin’ it that way? Oi, Fanger,” it suddenly calls out, almost making Adam flinch when he’s clearly being addressed. “Why donchu cut y’hair?”

Adam sneers, running forward with the DMB pressed to his side, hoping none of them see it.

“Oh, oh, ‘ere he comes,” the troll shrieks gleefully, raising its tree like a bat. “I haven’t had one of these fangers for a _long_ time.”

“It’s ‘cause they’re like slippery cats, s’why.” The troll with the axe trails after his move hungrily, its own weapon raised above its head.

“Borg, what is it wit’ you and cats—“

Adam slides under the barrage of hits coming his way, staying out of shot when all three of those trolls deliver their hits on the ground, the vibration of them reaching Adam in waves. 

“Where did he go? _Where did he go?_ ”

Adam covers the short space between him and the nearest tree with quick purpose, climbing up the rough tree bark before he bounds off it. He lands on one of the troll's shoulders, legs wrapping tightly around its neck to hold on.

“Prok, on yer back!” One of them screams, pointing at Adam with a gnarly finger. “The lil’ bugger’s on yer back!”

The troll called Prok screams, hand reaching back to slap at him that Adam ducks away from his attempts. “Get it off, get it off!”

Adam quickly takes off the cap with his teeth and spits it away, one hand holding onto the troll’s thick scalp as it tries to shake him off. Without a second wasted, he stabs the needle into the troll’s neck, and immediately, it stumbles, as if it just drank several gallons of alcohol in a blink of an eye.

Before it tumbles down, Adam propels himself off with a push of his legs, reaching for the branch above his head to push himself up and swing around until he’s seated on it properly. He watches the troll plummet to the ground as he pulls out the two syringes from his pants. The fallen troll’s friends roar in outrage, before they whip their heads up to face him.

“Oi, you coward!” The one with the axe barks out. Adam cocks up an eyebrow at him. “Yeah, you! Get down ‘ere so that we can bash yer head in after what y’did to Prok!”

Adam holds the two syringes discreetly in the lapels of his jacket, narrowing his eyes at the two trolls. “Alright.”

“That’s wha’ I thought—“

When Adam jumps down, the next two trolls meet the same fate as their friend five minutes later.

Adam breathes heavily, sweat making his hair stick to his face and his shirt to his skin. It takes work to bring them all down at once, as stupid as they are. But, he’s been whacked around by them enough to feel an ache from their hits, where bruises would most likely make an appearance.

He swipes his hair off his forehead as he presses the tip of his boot into one of the troll’s cheek, rolling back its head to see if they really are unconscious. What meets him is the sight of large, hairy nostrils and a low moan that gurgles deep from its chest. Adam lets go, and the troll’s face flops back to the damp grass with a minute _thud_.

He’s about to take a breath of relief, when the bushes burst out to reveal another stray troll, who roars loudly at his way.

Adam curses under his breath, about to scramble away when the troll runs at him. But the length of the heavy chain it has in its grip snaps forwards and catches Adam in his back. He yells out in pain, before he’s thrown into a large boulder.

He gasps, and feels his eyes widen before he vaults out of the way, the hit of the chain almost destroying the boulder.

“How the hell?” Adam hisses, holding onto his shoulder. He’s so sure there’d only be three trolls; he’s been following their trail and making sure he’s not seen, following wherever they’ve gone as they hunt, eat, and sleep. The whole time he has his eye on them, there have only been three of them.

The last troll doesn’t stop its advances, attacking again with its chains that Adam barely manages to avoid when he dives to the side, hearing the way it snaps into the air above his head.

“You’ve killed them!” This troll screams, advancing on him again. “You’ve killed them boys! You’ve killed _my_ boys!”

Adam feels air being sucked out of his lungs when he feels the chain whistle past his ear. He jumps out of the way, only to have a tree rammed into his front that he’s thrown back by the force of it.

From where he tries to blink out black spots from his eyes, the thick bark pinning him down and obscuring his sights, Adam realises this last troll could possibly be the mother, from how older she looks in the sag of her skin and the black spots on her arms. 

Adam also realises those three trolls never went back to their den; they’ve only been one spot for two days at most before moving on to another.

He groans. How can he possibly miss that?

“Y’think yer can hide?” The she-troll cackles, the sound of chains dragging across the forest floor. “Yer think y’can run after what y’did to my babies? I’d kill you, I’ll make you dinner for us to celebrate when they all wake up.”

Adam grits his teeth, shimmying around a bit to have a proper grip on the bark of the tree, his nails digging into the rough skin. The last DMB pinches into his leg from where it’s snuggled deep in his pocket. He moves again, trying to get it out from where he’s trapped.

Suddenly, the tree is lifted off him. Adam takes this open window of an opportunity to fumble off the cap of the syringe. He doesn’t have time to do anything else when the chain smacks him again and throws him a few feet off. He crashes into another tree until it cracks, and the syringe breaks under his clutch.

Adam hisses when the broken glass cuts into his palm, DMB already seeping into his flesh. He drops it, trying to wipe it off on his clothes when his head snaps up at the sound of footsteps thundering near.

The troll swings her chain again, aiming for his head, and Adam rolls away when it slices into the tree he’s crashed into. Panting, Adam blinks rapidly at how the world is starting to tilt, his body being pulled to the ground.

The DMB is starting to get into his system, and he’s having a hard time trying to stay awake.

The precious seconds that he used to clear his head is cost by another blow from the troll, her chain hitting him in the chest that he’s thrown back again, a scream ripping out of his throat.

Adam gasps, squeezing his eyes through the pain from where he’s curled on the floor. His ribs are broken, he can feel it in every breath he takes and it burns his airways as if he is internally on fire. He tries to take a breath, to calm down his panicking heart, but it just hurts him more when a ragged choke punches out of him.

He doesn’t realise the troll is near until a shadow casts over him. He glares at her as best as he can in his state.

“Tut tut, vampire,” the troll croons, bringing her chain nearer until it hangs just beside his head. “Yer lookin’ rather under the weather down there. But don’t worry,” His eyes widen when she raises her foot, aiming for his face. “It’ll be over soon.”

Adam flinches when she’s about to bring it down, but stops moving when there’s a quiet _whoosh_ somewhere above him. And then, she lets out a sudden squeak. He blinks, watches the way her eyes roll at the back of her head, and claws himself away when she falls heavily down.

He tries to catch his breath, staring at the troll from where she’s out like a light with his hand holding onto his side. 

“Adam.”

He jerks his head up, shoulders squaring in defense. It’s a mistake, because his head feels like it’s going to fall off soon with the floor being yanked out under him. He gnashes his jaw together, trying to not look affected as he tries to make out the voice.

It’s Mason, and he’s tucking the tranquilliser back into its holster. He stops right in front of Adam, scrutinising him. “You look like shit.”

“I wonder why,” Adam bites back, and swallows down a groan when it jostles against his broken ribs. He takes a shuddering breath as he ignores Mason’s arching eyebrow. “What are you doing here, Mason?”

“What do you think?” Mason waves a hand at the she-troll. 

“No,” Adam grounds out. “ _What_ are you doing here?”

Mason doesn’t answer then, before one corner of his lips tugs up knowingly. “Nate says today was a hunch.”

“Fuck all what Nate says.” Adam snaps, pushing himself up to a stand. Of course, Nate would know. Of course, his _hunch_ is right on the money.

“Is that what you tell your boyfriend every time you two meet up?” Mason asks innocently.

“He’s not my—“ Adam hisses, pressing more into his ribs when the sudden jolt of pain consumes his whole side. He doesn’t realise he’s violently swaying until Mason catches him, crashing against him that Adam doesn’t hold back the gurgling moan.

Mason sighs, his feet planted firmly on the ground. “You’re clearly hurt. And I have orders to bring you back to the Agency.”

Adam rolls his jaw, willing himself to stay conscious. “No.”

“Yeah, that’s what Nate said too.”

“Nate—“

“Can fuck off, I know,” Mason interrupts, but the sound of his voice is dragging and far away, as if Adam is swimming in a pool of petrol and he’s being pulled under and under. “With that beard on your face, it’s a wonder he hasn’t already.”

“You’re impossible,” Adam slurs out, wincing at how he can’t control such movement. 

Mason hums, and that’s the last thing Adam hears before he’s plunged into darkness.

* * *

The moment he comes to, Adam finds himself in the medical room.

It smells of floor wash and medicine, and they swamp his nose with an intensity that makes him purse his lips. He clenches his fingers, willing for the feeling to come back as he takes a look at the room. 

He’s alone. Curtains that separate between patients are tied back, the other beds empty and wrapped in clean sheets. The windows outside show that it’s late night — maybe early morning when he glances at the large clock above the door. There aren’t even any nurses available, and he tucks that in the back of his head as he slowly pushes himself up.

He groans, hand immediately bringing to his side. Looking down, he’s shirtless, his torso wrapped with white bandages. There are a couple of gauzes taped to his shoulders, and maybe there are still twinges here and there when he brings himself into a sitting position, but overall, he already feels fine after some rest. 

Sighing, he pushes his hair away from his face when he notices the cup of water on the bedside cabinet, a white t-shirt folded beside it with his wallet and keys resting on top of it. Adam carefully reaches forward to retrieve the cup, slowly taking a sip.

It looks like he’s back at the facility. He knows he has a thought in going back in, because there are times when he almost gets killed —like earlier that day— and he’s not much of a diplomat when it comes to the things that need to be handled more delicately. It’s only luck and his own dedication in getting out of tight situations alive that has him where he is. It’s obvious he needs a team. He needs _his_ team.

But then, there’s another part of him that just doesn’t want to be here, that he should just leave then and there. It’s as if he’s afraid of what he’s going to be when he stays longer, of what will happen when he’s there. And he can’t, he _can’t—_

He takes a deep breath, grimacing when he feels it prickling on his side, and releases it heavily through his nose. He puts aside the empty cup and swings his legs over the edge of the bed, wanting to get out of this place, the Agency, _now_.

He grabs the shirt and puts it on, letting out a soft grunt when the effort stretches his aching muscles. He slips on his socks and boots that’s left at the sides, before stuffing his wallet and keys into his back pocket. 

When he stands, it doesn’t hurt as much as he thought. He straightens himself, rolling his shoulders to get rid of the kinks. And then, he’s marching out of the medical room.

The moment he turns around the corner, he almost crashes into Elidor, whose eyes widen in surprise before they narrow suspiciously. “Commanding Agent du Mortain, you’re not supposed to be out of bed yet.”

Adam shakes his head, already side-stepping the fae. “I’m fine.”

“You need rest,” comes the clipped response, his footsteps following Adam from behind. “You’re not fit to be walking around just yet, doctor’s orders.”

Adam thins his mouth. “I’m _fine_.”

“What’s all this?”

Adam stops when he sees Nate from another hallway, already walking towards them with a paper bag in hand. “What’s the matter, Elidor?” Nate asks, his gaze remains on Adam. It results in him rearranging his spine subconsciously, tilting his chin to meet his look. “Your patient got away?”

Elidor huffs out in annoyance. “I tried to stop him, but Commanding Agent du Mortain refused to go back to the medical room. He still needs his rest.”

“It’s because I don’t need to,” Adam grits out, resisting the urge to fold his arms. “I’m already healed.”

“And you decided to just bail on us?” Nate questions, towering over Adam. “Just like that?”

Adam glares at him. “What does it matter to you?”

“More than you would have yourself believe,” Nate replies breezily, making Adam take a step back. Nate gives him a small smile. “And, it matters to Elidor too, along with the staff here. They’re trying to take care of you, Adam. Let them.”

“My things,” Adam says curtly. “I left them in the motel I was staying at. I need to get them back.”

“Oh, that’s alright. We’ve already retrieved them when you were out of it,” Nate shrugs. “They’re all in the spare room, just waiting for you. You’ll get back to them soon.”

He has unregistered DMB’s in that duffel bag of his, there’s no doubt they’ve already gone through it when he was unconscious. There’s a high chance they’ve taken it away as well.

It’s going to be a long time before he gets new supply. He can’t defeat rogues without them; if he doesn’t want to fling himself into suicidal situations every time he wants to chase them down, he has to have some DMB.

Adam rakes his fingers through his hair. “Fine. But in the spare room, I’m not staying in the medical room if I can help it.”

Elidor opens his mouth to protest, but Nate shakes his head sympathetically. “It’s alright, Elidor. I’ll make him come here as soon as he gets some more rest.”

Elidor clamps his mouth shut, sighing heavily. “Alright. The first thing after he wakes up.”

Nate nods. “I promise.”

Elidor seems satisfied enough, grunting out a reply before he turns around from where he came from, walking away.

When they turn back to each other, Adam lets out a small scoff, shaking his head as he makes his way to the spare rooms. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“My intuition is better than I expected,” Nate comments, easily stepping up with Adam’s brisk pace. “I knew you’d come here today.”

Adam doesn’t need to look at him to know he’s grinning. “Don’t act so pleased. I had it under control.”

“Mason saved your life. Give him a little more credit.”

Adam sniffs. “I had it.”

Nate lets out a chuckle. “Sure.”

When they arrive at the door, Adam pushes it open to see the standard facility bedroom they’ve all stayed in before. It’s bare except for the single bed, a bedside table, desk and chair, a radio, a wardrobe, and a door that leads to the bathroom. A small spotlight is attached above the bed, his duffel bag on the mattress like Nate promises. Adam recognises the single white carpet splayed in the middle of the clearing, where it’s supposed to give the place a somewhat homey look.

It doesn’t. It looks far too cold for anyone to stay here.

Adam folds his arms across his chest as he leans against the door frame, taking it all in. “You keep wanting me to stay,” he looks over at him. “Why?”

“You belong here,” Nate replies, and it makes something clench painfully in his chest as Adam stares into those warm eyes. “You belong with us. They all seem to think so.”

“Even after what I’ve done?”

“You’re not blacklisted, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Nate steps into the room. “They understood the way you did to save me.”

“Did you bribe them with something?” Adam asks, sarcasm heavy in his tone as he walks in as well. The door swings close behind him. “Tell them you’ll keep an eye on me the whole time I’m here so that I wouldn’t go feral? Like a dog to its sheep?”

“If you must know, I’ll always have an eye on you,” Nate tells him, letting himself drop on the bed. He set the paper bag on his lap. “To protect you, Adam. Even if you’re being a stubborn ass about it.”

Adam snorts softly, joining him on the bed. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything else from you.”

“I am so glad to know where you put your faith in me,” Nate snarks out, opening the paper bag to take out a sandwich. “Here.”

Adam blinks at it, before letting his gaze flicker back to Nate. “Why are you always feeding me?”

“Because I want you to eat,” Nate says, still holding out the sandwich, his gaze never leaving Adam’s. It pulls him far and back and keeps him under his skin, inside his bones. “Because I want you to not starve. I feel good when you’re healthy.”

The tip of his ears heats up, and Adam gently accepts the sandwich from Nate. “Thank you,” he murmurs.

Nate smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Adam looks down at it for a while, listening to the way Nate stands up, duffel bag slung on his shoulder as he walks to the wardrobe. Finally, Adam takes a bite.

“Hey.”

Adam looks up, and almost chokes on a piece of turkey when Nate holds up a brown leather jacket in front of him. The duffel bag lays open by his feet, and he’s grinning wide as he looks over the piece of clothing.

Adam swallows the food down dryly, wishing he has a bottle of water. “What?”

“It’s my jacket,” Nate faces him then, the same elated look on his face that mutates with the smugness taking hold. Adam brings his shoulders to his ears, his face heating up. “You actually kept it.”

“I, uh,” Adam clears his throat, looking at anywhere but him. “I forgot to give it back to you. After that mission.”

“I don’t mind,” Nate says, and there’s a teasing lit in it that makes Adam stuff his mouth with a big bite of the sandwich. Nate hangs the jacket with a hanger and puts it inside the wardrobe. “I’m glad you kept it.”

Adam gives a small, hopeless shrug, trying to push down the pounding of his heart when he realises Nate isn’t taking the jacket back.

Nate finishes packing up for him, Adam watching it all as the man moves around so easily between them, his steps almost languid. By that time, Adam already finishes his food when Nate comes out of the bathroom after keeping his toiletries. “I’m not even going to stay here long. You didn’t need to do all of that.”

“Will you?” It’s then Nate makes his place beside Adam again. 

Adam frowns at him. “You seem so sure that I’d be staying here permanently.”

“Not permanently, no. Just, enough.” Nate smiles, and it’s then he reaches out towards him, causing Adam to hold his breath when the back of his fingers brush against the corner of his lips. “You had something there,” Nate explains almost demurely, but no.

Adam knows better.

He takes a breath, and Nate smiles a bit wider at how it’s affecting him, letting his fingertips graze the beard there. It does nothing to soothe his electrified nerves at being touched so gently by this man, and to his muted horror, Adam finds he doesn’t mind it at all. “This look is something else.”

Adam doesn’t know what to say to that this time, unable to move when Nate slides his hand up his cheek, before he tucks a stray hair behind his ear. “The other agents almost had a heart attack when they first saw you.”

Adam wets his lips, and Nate’s eyes flashes. “I don’t care for them.”

“Unfortunately, I know that,” Nate laughs softly, moving away. Adam almost follows him as Nate stands up, but he keeps himself bolted on the bed. “I’m going to let you rest. Please don’t give anyone grief and run away. That’s going to cause a lot more trouble than it should.”

The words snap Adam back to reality. “Is that a threat?”

“An advice worth listening to, at least.” Nate raises his eyebrows before he turns to leave. “Give this place another try, Adam. You might like it again.”

“Who said I ever did in the first place?” 

Nate stops, before looking over his shoulder with a grin. “You’re doing it for me now, aren’t you?”

Adam doesn’t have the chance to splutter out an excuse before the door closes on him.


End file.
